


The Sex Jacket Incident

by Nokomis



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Ensemble Cast, F/M, M/M, Magical Artifacts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 22:11:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nokomis/pseuds/Nokomis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard accidentally buys a magic sex jacket. Frank is not pleased. (High school AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sex Jacket Incident

**Author's Note:**

> This story started out as a chatfic with Perspexsea, inspired by an episode of Buffy. ("Him".)

“Leather jackets are _cool_ ,” Gerard says loudly, pulling one off the thrift store rack. “They turn you instantly into a sex god. I could totally rock the sex god look.”

“This is why I try not to go shopping with you,” Frank replies, looking around to make sure that no one from their high school is anywhere nearby. The coast is clear, thank god. “And leather jackets do not automatically turn you into a sex god. They can also turn you instantly into ‘that weird guy in the corner,’ which, hey, is _already what you are_. You don’t need to add a failed attempt at badassery to the mix.”

“Mikey would have totally backed me on this,” Gerard says. He surveys the leather jacket, which, okay, is pretty cool looking, and not nearly as feminine as the Way brothers’ usual jacket choices. Frank stands by his assessment, though, that it will do nothing to turn Gerard into a sex god in the eyes of the populace in general.

“Mikey wore his girlfriend’s clothes to school last week,” Frank points out. “Mikey is coasting on the cool-fumes of having the FBI bang down his door.”

“It was my door too,” Gerard protests.

“You are immune to cool-fumes,” Frank informs him for the fortieth time in their friendship to date. “It’s practically a super power.”

“Not the one I would pick,” Gerard says. He puts the jacket over his arm as they keep looking at the crappy clothes people have donated to the store. “It’s only five bucks!” he tells Frank. “And I would definitely pick telepathy. Getting into people’s brains would be awesome.”

“Just listening or the full-out Professor X package?” Frank wonders. “Because just hearing people would suck if you didn’t get to subtly alter their thoughts and make them paranoid as fuck.”

“Professor X, definitely,” Gerard replies. “Creepiest motherfucker in the Marvel U. Doesn’t anyone wonder why he’s collecting teenagers?”

“He’s up to no good,” Frank agrees. “Nubile young things in spandex as far as the eye can see.”

There’s nothing awesome on the rest of the racks – just old bowling shirts and t-shirts from church camp – and Frank waits patiently while Gerard buys the totally ill-advised jacket.

“You’re going to get a swirlie,” Frank warns as they leave the store. Their high school is a building held up not with walls, but with clichés and social stereotypes. Any action outside the prescribed norm results in instant bullying and mockery. Gerard’s attempts to be badass are definitely a disaster in the making.

“You’re just jealous,” Gerard says happily, swinging his bag as they head to the coffee shop.

*

Frank always stops by the Way house before school. Obstinately it’s to make sure that the Ways are awake, but really it’s because their kitchen is a seemingly endless source of the caffeinated beverages that Frank’s mom insists are terrible for him and refuses to stock.

When he finishes pouring himself a cup of coffee, he heads down into Gerard’s room. Gerard is standing in front of his full-length mirror – the one Frank teases the shit out of him over having in his bedroom, because, seriously – posing and blowing kisses at the mirror, clearly testing out in his leather jacket.

Frank wolf-whistles, and Gerard tries to hide behind the first thing he can find, which is a feather boa. Frank cracks the fuck up.

“You shithead,” Gerard says, dropping the boa and glaring at Frank.

“Why were you trying to hide, princess?” Frank teases, grabbing the boa and wrapping it around his own neck, blowing Gerard a kiss.

“No reason,” Gerard says, cheeks suspiciously pink, so Frank looks at him closer.

“Wait, are you wearing make-up?” Frank says, leaning in close and squeezing Gerard’s cheeks. “God, just go for the double-whammy, why don’t you?”

“I am not going to get swirlied,” Gerard says. “That only happens on TV.”

“It does not! It happened to someone at Bob’s old school!” Frank argues.

“Hearsay!” Gerard declares.

Frank sticks his head around the corner and yells up the stairs, “Hey Mikey! Mikey! Come here, Mikey!”

“Be more obnoxious,” Gerard grumbles.

Mikey eventually appears in the doorway, hair half-styled and says with zero inflection, “What.” His hands are curled protectively around his coffee mug like it’s filled with liquid gold.

“Tell Gerard about the swirlies,” Frank says and waits expectantly.

“They are not an urban legend,” Mikey recites, “Bob gave one to a kid at his old school.”

“Exactly,” Frank says.

Gerard rolls his eyes. “Bob is not going to swirlie me for showing up at school in an awesome jacket and a little bit of make-up.”

Mikey surveys Gerard. “It does look really good,” he agrees.”

Frank lets out a loud sigh and flops dramatically back on Gerard’s bed, waving the boa around as he says, “Why am I the only one here who understands the way that high school works?”

Mikey points out, “You have skunk hair. And last month you did drew ‘X’s on your eyes. And--”

Frank cuts him off. “But I’m a bad-ass. Gerard is a delicate flower.”

He gets identical eyerolls in response.

“Fine, motherfuckers,” Frank grumbles. “We’ll see who has to help you out of the dumpster after school.”

*

Frank does not have to help Gerard out of the dumpster.

In fact, after he teases Gerard about the jacket before homeroom, a kid he’s never even seen before bumps roughly into him and tells him to cool it, that jacket’s awesome.

Gerard’s practically _glowing_. Frank looks around suspiciously. People are _absolutely_ checking Gerard out. Blatantly. Even the QB of the football team. Frank even sees people craning their necks to check out Gerard’s ass.

“Is there a gas leak?” Frank wonders aloud.

“School isn’t cancelled,” Gerard replies. He’s giving Frank an odd look, like Frank is being some sort of asshole or something.

“Did you suddenly manifest pheromone-based mutant powers?” Frank tries.

“I fucking told you this jacket was sexy,” Gerard says triumphantly. “You saw the way Mrs. Hinkle checked me out, right?”

“…the guidance counselor?” Frank says. There is something strange afoot. Very strange.

Gerard merrily continues about his way. “Who’s got two thumbs and isn’t getting swirlied? That’s right. This guy!”

Frank kind of wants to swirlie Gerard himself.

*

It only gets worse as the day progresses.

Frank in theory should be happy that his best friend seems to have stumbled into some sort of sex-god-popularity heretofore only experienced by rock stars, but…

Frank doesn’t want the whole school scheming to get into Gerard’s pants. Gerard’s too trusting, and Frank just knows it’s going to end badly, and so he’s going to be the one to defend Gerard’s maidenly honor.

Frank sighs loudly.

“Dude, that’s the fifth time you’ve sighed like that,” Ray hisses. “Are you turning into Charlie Brown?”

“Have you seen Gerard today?” Frank whispers. The geometry lesson continues around them.

“Nope,” Ray replies. “You know I go to homeroom early to practice guitar.”

“Do you think Gerard’s sexy?” Frank asks. The girl in front of him turns around enough to give him a weird face, and he sticks his tongue out at her, though really he’s just happy she didn’t start fawning over how hot Gerard is.

“Um,” Ray says, “does this have to do with your crush? Because I’m not going to try to woo Gerard away from you or anything.”

“I do not have a crush,” Frank says.

“Last week you gave a speech at lunch about how everything he does is magic,” Ray says.

“That’s because it _is_ , not because I have a crush,” Frank explains. “But I’m glad that you haven’t been infected with whatever crazy has taken over the school.”

Ray blinks at him owlishly. Frank flips him off and starts doodling pictures of Godzilla attacking his trapezoids.

*

By third period, Frank is certain that at some point during the night, there was a Crisis of Multiple Earths and he accidentally ended up on the wrong fuckin’ planet.

Two girls are bitching at each other because they each saw Gerard first, dammit, he’s _theirs_ , while behind him he can hear a football player wondering aloud if boning a dude would be as awesome as boning a girl, and that he hoped so, because he was asking Gerard Way to prom.

Frank can’t stand it anymore. He turns around and snaps, “You are so not taking Gerard to prom, fuckface!”

“Like he’d go with you,” snorts the football player. He flexes. “You don’t even have awesome guns.”

Frank narrows his eyes. “Like you even know him,” he counters. Nevermind that he has no plans to bone Gerard on prom night, it’s his duty as Gerard’s best friend to _defend his motherfucking honor._ Especially from jackasses like Puckerman.

Puckerman’s face gets very, very red. Frank is a little concerned he’s going to have an aneurism and keel over right there in history class.

Frank really shouldn’t have bothered to be concerned, because a moment later the dude’s out of his desk and charging at Frank with nostrils flaring and a truly terrifying snarl.

Frank yells and jumps up but there’s no avoiding it, he might as well try to get a few punches in before he gets suspended.

*

One visit to the nurse’s office later, Frank finds himself sitting next to his attacker in the principal’s office. Principal Aaronson looks sternly at them for a moment, but then a grin cracks through as he asks, “So what is the trouble with you two boys?”

“Nothing,” says Puckerman.

“He charged me!” Frank says, because he’s pretty sure there’s a rule in the books about self-defense. Puckerman whispers, “Pussy,” at him. Frank wonders if Aaronson could see if he kicked the fucker in the ankle.

“Oh?” Principal Aaronson raises an eyebrow.

“I’m taking Gerard Way to prom,” Puckerman announces, “and Frankie Fuckface here doubted my studliness.”

Principal Aaronson doesn’t even blink at the profanity. “Oh, Gerard’s so _dreamy_! You should get him a corsage; he deserves more than a silly little boutonniere.”

Puckerman looks confused and mouths ‘boutonniere’ to himself.

Frank is practically shaking with rage. “He isn’t taking Gerard to prom! He doesn’t even like Gerard! Two weeks ago he smashed a cupcake into Gerard’s hair!”

“Kindergarten love,” Principal Aaronson said dreamily. “Scram! I won’t punish you two kids for having such passions of the heart.”

Frank definitely woke up in the wrong universe this morning.

*

“What happened to your face?” asks Bob as soon as Frank arrives at the lunch table.

“A football player smashed it in because he wanted to take Gerard to prom,” Frank says sullenly.

“He didn’t do that great of a job of it,” Ray says. “I’m glad you’ve come to terms with your feelings, though.”

Frank glowers.

“Wait, a football player wants to take _Gerard_ to prom?” Bob asks. “That seems uncharacteristic.”

“Exactly!” Frank says. Finally, someone _understands_. “Something fishy’s going on!”

“Like what?” Ray says. “The fickle social tides of high school have turned in favor of our friend. Why fuck it up for him?”

“Because it is unnatural!” Frank says. The world has gone crazy. “And is clearly going to end badly.

“Uh-huh.” Bob and Ray simultaneously roll their eyes.

He sulks and pokes at his pizza, waiting patiently on Gerard to arrive. Ray and Bob get distracted playing with something stupid and high-tech on Ray’s phone.

Gerard finally shows up fifteen minutes late and with his hair mussed. Frank is pretty sure there’s a pink lipstick smear on his cheek.

“I ran into Gabe Saporta,” Gerard says. Frank narrows his eyes suspiciously; Gerard’s cheeks are definitely pink. “And, um, Victoria.”

“So?” Bob mumbles, not looking up from his phone.

“They were really… friendly,” Gerard continues. He adjusts one of the buckles on his jacket.

“It looks like you were manhandled,” Frank says bitchily. Stupid Gerard looking stupidly adorable in his stupid leather jacket. “You probably caught something from Gabe.”

Gerard’s cheeks go red. Definitely red. “You know how forward he is.”

“He has never been forward with you before,” Frank says. He’s going to find Gabe and is going to _set him on fire_.

“Wait, Gabe Saporta made out with you?” Ray says, head popping up. “I thought he had a thing with Pete.”

“I heard it was Travie,” Bob offers. Frank glares at them, and gets to actually _see_ the moment their eyes go all soft and gooey as they gaze at Gerard.

“Oh, hell no!” Frank snaps, but it’s too late.

“Dude,” Bob says, “you look fucking awesome.”

“The cafeteria light really brings out your porcelain skin,” Ray sighs.

“Thanks!” Gerard says brightly.

“Wanna go to a movie this Friday?” Bob asks.

“Sure,” Gerard says, “I’ve been wanting to see--”

“You can’t go out with Bob!” Ray says shrilly. “We’re soulmates, man!”

“This is so fucked up,” Frank says, staring at his best friends.

“I don’t think a movie is that big of a deal,” Gerard tells Ray. “I thought we’d set up a D&D game Friday night anyway.”

“You should be dungeon master,” Ray says, resting his chin on his hand. Frank is pretty sure he fluttered his eyes, what the hell.

“Do you have something in your eye?” Frank says loudly.

Ray turns red and Bob snorts.

“Friday it is, I guess,” Gerard says, clearly confused, as Mikey squeezes into the chair next to him.

Frank is relieved; if anyone else is immune to whatever the fuck is up with Gerard today, it’ll be Mikey. Mikey’s a champ. Mikey’s Gerard’s _best friend since birth._ Mikey is…

Gazing thoughtfully at his brother.

“No,” Frank says loudly, pointing at Mikey. “Don’t even think it!”

Mikey somehow twines himself around Gerard. He’s as close to sitting on Gerard’s lap as a person can be while still being technically on a separate chair. “I got _G.I. Joe_ on DVD,” he says huskily. “The original cartoon.”

“Ooh,” Gerard says, looking completely unperturbed by how his brother is invading his personal space, “I fucking love all the corny lines in it.”

Thankfully, before Mikey can do anything that will require the use of brain bleach, the bell rings. Frank has never been so happy to hear a bell in his entire life.

*

Frank has sixth period with Gerard, so he ushers him through the halls, doing his best to fend off the ravening hordes of hormone-crazed teenagers. At one point he’s pretty sure he _growls_ at a Grabby Hands McGee. Gerard looks a little worse for wear by the time they duck into study hall.

“Maybe we should skip,” Frank suggests. “I think I want to hear about your day.”

Gerard looked around the room. Elderly Mr. Reynolds winked and said, “Hey, good-lookin’, I like what _you_ got cookin’.”

“Let’s go,” Gerard says quickly.

They end up hanging out behind the gym. Frank steals one of Gerard’s cigarettes and is happily puffing away when Gerard asks, “So why are you the only person treating me normally?”

Frank doesn’t know what to say. “Do you know what’s going on? I have theories involving both witchcraft and wizardry.”

Gerard sighs. “Maybe this is one of those _It’s A Wonderful Life_ dreams, only where my every dream has come true instead of me never existing.”

“You’ve always dreamed of being accosted by Gabe Saporta?” Frank asks. He adds as an afterthought, “And if I were you I’d avoid Principal Aaronson.”

“Well, I’ve always dreamed of being massively popular and having lots of people interested in me,” Gerard says. “Only it’s a little creepy when it actually happens. After second period, Chantal Claret cornered me and made some very disturbing propositions.” He seems to be trying to hunch down into his jacket, popping the collar as if to protect him from the waves of lust radiating in his direction.

Frank doesn’t have the heart to tell him that it just makes him look all the more rakish and irresistible. He sits crosslegged on the ground and gazes up at Gerard, chin on his hand. The afternoon sunlight is hitting Gerard just right, making his hair seem like a halo around his face.

“Dude,” Gerard says. “You aren’t going to jump me, are you? Because that’s the same look Gabe got.”

“Um, no,” Frank says quickly. “I was just thinking about something else entirely. It has nothing to do with you. At all.”

Gerard doesn’t look like he believes a word Frank is saying. “You’re imagining me as the Mary Jane to your Peter Parker!”

“What the fuck, man,” Frank says. “That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He pauses. “If anything, we’d be Jesse Custer and Tulip.”

“I get to be Tulip, right?” Gerard says.

“No, I get to be motherfuckin’ Tulip,” Frank argues.

“So long as I get to be Cassidy,” says a new voice from behind him. Frank turns and freaking Lyn-Z Ballato is standing there, hip cocked and a smirk on her lips.

“Um,” Gerard says. Frank should be getting a doctorate in glaring by now, because he is shooting glares off at everyone. He’s pretty sure he’s going to start glaring at inanimate objects soon.

“That had best mean you’re hitting on me, vile temptress,” Frank announces. “Gerard is off limits.”

“No, he’s not,” Gerard says quickly.

“Yes, he is,” Frank says firmly. He grinds his cigarette into the dirt.

Lyn-Z snorts and breezes past Frank. “Hi there. I saw you this morning in that truly boss jacket and haven’t stopped thinking of you since.”

“She’s Talia al fucking Ghul, man,” Frank says, giving her the stink-eye.

Lyn-Z flips Frank off, then turns her attention to trailing her fingers up the lapel of Gerard’s jacket

“I think she’s more of a Selina Kyle,” Gerard says in a slightly strangled voice. He focuses on Lyn-Z. “Right? You’re a fierce independent woman who adheres to her own moral code and sometimes instigates dalliances with dark, brooding heroes in black leather?”

“Well, to be honest,” Lyn-Z says, leaning in to nuzzle Gerard’s neck, “I hadn’t given it much thought before I saw you today.”

She nibbled on Gerard’s earlobe and he made a strangled sound.

“When you saw him in the jacket,” Frank says.

“Mmm,” agrees Lyn-Z before she sticks her tongue down Gerard’s throat. Frank is pretty sure she’s actually trying to eat his face.

“The new jacket that Gerard is wearing for the first time,” Frank says.

“Hot,” Lyn-Z adds before diving in for another round of tonsil hockey. Gerard has his eyes shut and looks like a total goober just standing there letting Lyn-Z maul him like that.

“Oi!” Frank yells. “I’ve figured it out!”

“That you aren’t welcome?” Lyn-Z asks, burrowing one hand into Gerard’s hair, completely unperturbed by its greasiness.

Frank is the only one who should get to appreciate Gerard’s gross self. He clamors to his feet and announces, “She’s only making out with you because she’s under a spell!”

Lyn-Z pulled away from Gerard. “I’m standing right here.”

“Spells aren’t really real, right?” Gerard says hopefully.

“What’re the odds of everyone in the school simultaneously falling in love with you?” Frank says bluntly.

Gerard sighs. “Before today, I’d say slim to none.”

“Oh, but you’re adorable and draw the cutest vampires!” Lyn-Z says. “I’ve been admiring your stuff in art all semester.”

Frank reluctantly admits to himself that Lyn-Z isn’t the devil incarnate, even if she is still holding Gerard’s hand.

“But before today you didn’t feel the need to corner him and lick his tonsils, right?” Frank asks.

“Not enough to actually do it, no,” Lyn-Z agrees thoughtfully. She turns to Gerard. “I hate to say it, but you should maybe take off that sweet-ass jacket for a minute. See what happens.”

Gerard looks reluctant. “What if there are like, horrifying ramifications of taking off the jacket. I don’t want to like die in three days or something.”

Frank and Lyn-Z both roll their eyes.

Gerard reluctantly unzips the jacket and shrugs it off. He holds it limply for a minute then sets it carefully on the ground.

Nothing happens.

“I expected there to be sparkles,” Lyn-Z says, looking around. “Maybe some mystical leaf-shaking or something.”

They all gaze at a nearby tree. It too seems unaffected by magic.

“Are you repulsed by me yet?” Gerard asks.

Frank and Lyn-Z shake their heads.

“I’ve never been repulsed by you,” Frank adds. “Though that would be a sucky magical ramification.”

“I totally still want to make out with you,” Lyn-Z says. “But, you know, that could just be because now I know you’re an awesome kisser.”

Gerard turns pink. Frank glowers at her.

“Maybe someone else has to put the jacket on,” Gerard suggests. They’re all staring at it like it’s going to get up and do a dance.

Lyn-Z shrugs and picks it up and slips it on.

Frank blinks at her. He never realized how fucking hot she was, standing there looking like the most awesomely bad-ass punk chick in the universe, all messy hair and lips reddened from making out with Gerard and jacket hanging a little loosely on her shoulders.

“If you were turned into a zombie,” Gerard says sweetly, “I wouldn’t even decapitate you, you’re so pretty.”

“You did look really good at eating face,” Frank agrees, nodding dumbly.

“Yep, it’s a magic sex jacket,” Lyn-Z confirms, slipping it off her shoulders and carefully draping it back over Gerard’s.

Frank feels a familiar little lurch when he looks at Gerard again. “Things are back to normal,” he says.

Lyn-Z raises an eyebrow. “Normal?”

“Yeah, just normal, everyday Gerard love,” Frank says. “Not weird feelings about a stranger... oh.”

Gerard beams at him. “You’re in love with me every day?”

“No!” Frank says. “Well. Just the normal sort! Right?” He turns to Lyn-Z hopefully.

“Nope, I’m feeling overwhelmingly new Gerard love,” she says. She pinches his cheek. “But I’m enjoying it.”

“We shouldn’t make out again, I’d be taking advantage of you,” Gerard says, slightly mournfully.

“You wouldn’t be taking advantage of me!” Frank pipes up with. He’s still disconcerted with how strange it felt to _not_ be in love with Gerard. In retrospect it felt like a limb had been missing.

Maybe Ray had been right about that whole crush thing.

“Using a magic sex jacket to get people to make out with me is wrong,” Gerard begins, and Frank shuts him up with his mouth.

It’s an awkward, messy kiss, mostly because Gerard keeps trying to talk and Frank keeps trying to _stop him from talking_ and there are a lot of painful collisions of teeth and noses. Frank can dimly hear Lyn-Z laughing her ass off and frees one hand up to flip her off.

When they break apart Gerard scowls at Frank. “Now I’ll never know if you like me or if it was just the jacket!”

Lyn-Z offers, “I’m pretty sure me and Steve made fun of the moon-eyes he was making at you last week.”

Frank hates that even people he didn’t talk to knew more about his feelings than he did. “Fuck you,” he says, because who the hell just tells someone about mocking them?

Lyn-Z, apparently. She continues unabated by Frank’s interruption. “Jimmy wrote an entire rap about it, in fact.” She turns to Gerard. “There was a verse about that time you drew a bunch of different versions of Frank and did a presentation on it in art class.”

“He has excellent lines,” Gerard mumbles, trying to hide under his hair.

Frank bounces on his toes. His cheeks are hurting, he’s grinning so hard. “You liiiiiike me,” he croons. Gerard didn’t even _tell_ him about that presentation, the motherfucker, he was keeping his _love of Frank a secret._

His Gerard! Secretly in love with him! Frank feels like he’s going to burst.

Gerard scuffs his toe on the ground and stares intently at the scribbled-on toe of his converses.

This time, Frank is just as enthusiastic but not nearly as awkward when he kisses Gerard. He thinks he hears Lyn-Z leave, but mostly doesn’t care.

Gerard mumbles tiny, barely coherent things between kisses, like “This is definitely a dream,” and “Don’t pinch me, okay,” and “Motherfuckin’ Tulip,” and, most awesomely, “Frankie.”

*

The problem with the magic sex jacket is that it remains a magic sex jacket even after Gerard has asked Frank to go steady with him. After Frank finished dying laughing and making fun of Gerard, asking for his class ring and then maybe hitting up the local soda jerk for some malts, Frank agrees to be Gerard’s and maybe even picks Gerard a flower out of one of the school’s flower beds.

Gerard’s twirling the flower between two fingers when Pete Wentz launches himself at Gerard, flinging arms around his shoulders and smacking a wet, loud kiss onto Gerard’s cheek.

“Hey there,” Pete says, clinging to Gerard like a lichen. “Wanna go roller skating?”

“I have a boyfriend,” Gerard says quickly. He beams at Frank, who still has that awesome warm feeling in his belly. He isn’t even mad at Pete, though he does forcibly remove him from Gerard.

“So?” Pete says, flailing against Frank. “He won’t mind.”

“Yes, he does,” Frank interjects. “Go away.”

“I’ll prove my love to you,” Pete promises before taking off down the hall.

Gerard stares after him. “I have to get rid of this motherfucking jacket.”

“You really do,” Frank agrees. “I’m pretty sure he’s coming back with a boom box.”

They continue their way to the band room. Frank thinks Ray will know what to do, if they can get him to stop fluttering his eyelashes at Gerard for long enough to think of a plan.

They get halfway to the band room when Frank realizes they’re being followed. He looks quickly over his shoulder and sees a flutter of a paisley scarf disappearing into a random classroom.

“Dude, I think that weirdo freshman’s stalking us,” Frank says.

Gerard looks back. “I don’t see anything.”

“Trust me, he’s there,” hisses Frank. “Look natural. Maybe he’ll go away.”

Gerard starts walking down the hall with exaggerated casualness, looking around and whistling. Frank punches him in the arm. “Look natural, I said, not like you’re headed for a showdown at the OK Corral.”

Frank peeks back over his shoulder. The freshman is standing in the center of the hall, swaying slightly, with a slightly deranged look in his eyes. Frank looks around. There’s Jepha Howard and Dan Whitesides, peering out of a classroom with deranged, lustful eyes. Jimmy and Steve are creeping up the hall, faces adorned with colorful camouflage and whispering into walkie talkies. Brian Schechter appears around a corner with William Beckett in a headlock, giving him a noogie while yelling, “Death to all who stand between me and my love!”

“Run,” hisses Frank. “Seriously, run like the fucking wind.”

And they take off, huffing and puffing as they careen past the hordes of lust-zombies.

They skid into the band room, slamming the door behind them. Gerard finds a chair and crams it under the door handle before sinking against the wall in relief.

“I think one of them tried to bite me,” he gasps, trying to catch his breath.

“Did you see Brian? How the fuck did he get that giant in a headlock?” Frank replies, breathing slightly better than Gerard. “I think he had to stand on a desk and then jump.”

Gerard snorts. “I’m more worried about who Jimmy and Steve were plotting with.”

The possibilities are horrifying. Frank clutches Gerard’s hand and says, “We have to get rid of this shitstain of a jacket. Pronto.”

“I’ve been filling the boys in on the situation,” Lyn-Z announces. Frank jumps; he hadn’t even bothered to look and see if the band room was filled with love-crazies or not. He definitely fails Romero 101.

The only other ones in the room, though, are Ray, Bob and Mikey.

“It explains _so much_ ,” Mikey says, relief evident in his voice. Gerard hurries over and gives him a hug before Mikey pushes him away with a, “It’s still weird, dude.”

“It’s such a shame for him to take it off, though,” Ray says sadly.

“You look bangin’,” Bob agrees. Gerard beams at him.

Lyn-Z nods. “You so do, sugarpie.”

Everyone takes a moment to appreciate the glory that is Gerard. There are a few wistful sighs.

Gerard looks around at them and takes the jacket off. “This is too weird,” he mutters.

He holds the jacket limply, looking around the room. “What do I do with it?”

“Maybe if we set it on fire,” Lyn-Z suggests.

Mikey looks horrified. “It’s too pretty for that.”

“Maybe it won’t have the same effect if someone else wears it,” Bob suggests.

“We already tried that,” Lyn-Z begins as Mikey takes the jacket from Gerard and slips it on, zipping it up and inspecting his reflection in a window.

Frank stares hard at Mikey, expecting the same squishy-warm feelings that he had for Lyn-Z when she wore the jacket to start settling in.

Mikey zips up the jacket and strikes a few poses.

Frank looks around at everyone else, looking for hands clasped to bosoms and sighs of unrequited love.

Nada.

“Um,” says Gerard. “Are you all sure you weren’t just crazy? I don’t feel anything inappropriate.”

“Me either,” says Ray, furrowing his brow.

“I mean, you’re hot, don’t get me wrong,” Lyn-Z says, “but I don’t feel like jamming my hand down your pants or anything.”

Mikey shrugs. “I look awesome, though.”

Everyone nods in agreement.

“So I guess you’re like, immune,” Bob says.

The clamor outside the door fades enough that Frank can make out individual voices. He’s pretty sure that he can hear William Beckett bitching about his hair, and Chantal loudly wondering why she’s got whipped cream in her bra. Whoever was banging against the door stops, and the doorknob goes still for the first time since they locked themselves inside the room.

Outside the window, he can hear Joy Division suddenly blaring. Mikey announces, “Pete’s down there with a boom box.”

“And he picked “Love Will Tear Us Apart” as the song to woo me with?” Gerard says. He pauses. “Good one.”

Mikey opens the window and sticks his head out. “Gerard’s not wearing the sex coat anymore!”

Frank joins everyone else and watches Pete look around, slightly confused, but then holds the boom box aloft again. “This one’s for you, Mikey Way!”

“I thought the jacket didn’t work on me,” Mikey whispers out the side of his mouth.

“It doesn’t,” Bob confirms.

Mikey nods and yells out the window, “Wanna go to the water park with me on Saturday?”

Pete does a stupid dance of joy. Frank hopes that he doesn’t look that stupid when he fawns over Gerard, that’s just embarrassing. He gazes back at Gerard, who looks kind of naked with his bare arms and rumpled Judas Priest shirt. It’s adorable.

“Is anyone else still in love with Gerard?” Frank says, just to make sure. He doesn’t want to have to deal with ravening hordes forever.

“Not really, no,” Ray says. Bob agrees.

“Must just be you, then,” Lyn-Z tells Frank.

Mikey raises an eyebrow.

“Shut up, all of you,” Frank mutters.

Gerard looks worried. “You are, right? Still in love with me? Because if it was just the jacket, you can tell me, it’s okay. I won’t be offend--”

Frank thinks that shutting Gerard up with his mouth is fast becoming his favorite Gerard-related activity.


End file.
